


finding what's right

by livelyvague



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Angst, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 09:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18546601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livelyvague/pseuds/livelyvague
Summary: “Hi, I’m Rachel.”Patrick looked up from his new script to see a redhead staring back at him, with a hand extended out. He grabbed it and shook it a little awkwardly.“Hi, I’m uh, Patrick,” he replied back.Or, Rachel and Patrick through the years.





	finding what's right

**Author's Note:**

> I spend most of my time thinking about Patrick Brewer, so I decided to write how I imagined how he felt about Rachel and that entire relationship. This isn't beta'd so I'm sorry if there's any typos, mistakes or things alike. Enjoy! Comments and kudos always appreciated!

“Hi, I’m Rachel.”

Patrick looked up from his new script to see a redhead staring back at him, with a hand extended out. He grabbed it and shook it a little awkwardly.

“Hi, I’m uh, Patrick,” he replied back. He had seen her at auditions and her name when the cast list came out, but this was the first time they had spoken.

“I know. I’m playing Mollie, your wife,” she said with a smile showing her dimples.

“Oh, yeah, well, I am Giles, ah, um, your husband.”

“We will be spending a lot of time together, then.”

“Yes, yeah,” he tries to say nonchalantly while smiling. It was Patrick’s sophomore year of high school and he was yet again playing the lead role in a show. This semester it was the murder mystery _The Mousetrap_ and he was mildly excited for it but he really couldn’t wait until the musical next year.

Rachel only smiled again in response and sat beside him in the auditorium seats to wait for the director. Patrick knew she was a pretty girl and that he should do something when a pretty girl talks to him and sits right _beside_ him when there are plenty of other chairs. Yet, he didn’t know what to say, or didn’t want to say much, so he sat there in silence highlighting the rest of his lines.

***

“Thanks for the ride, Patrick,” Rachel said from the passenger seat. She looked over at him with an expression that Patrick didn’t know how to place, so he nodded and smiled in response. “You were really good tonight. I’m sad the show is over, though.”

“Thank you. You did really well too, I’m glad the last performance was the best. I was really worried there for a second that Jacob wasn’t gonna be able to get his freakin’ lines down,” he said laughing at his lap.

“I know, right?” She laughed alongside him and then shifted her body so it was facing Patrick. “But, I’m gonna miss kissing you,” she said sheepishly but still exuding confidence as she stared intensely. Patrick’s breath hitched a little and he wasn’t sure what to say. They had to kiss for the show, and it was fine. He had done plenty of stage kisses before and the ones with her felt just like the rest. Patrick knew, though, that Rachel meant that she’d miss kissing _Patrick_ and not his character. His mind raced for a bit, before deciding that trying to kiss her now would probably be the right choice.

So he does just that, awkwardly moving his head towards her and softly pressed his lips against hers, then thinking that putting a hand on her face would be the best next step, so he did. Rachel immediately complied and he could tell she was smiling. He kissed her just the way they did when there was a director and he was on stage. He could feel her long hair brushing against his hand. The taste of strawberry lip gloss filled his senses, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. When they pulled back, Patrick could see a happy glint in her eyes and he wondered if his looked the same.

“I have to go, but, um, thanks Patrick. I hope I see you soon.”

“Yeah, me too,” he said as if it was a line in a script he had been working to memorize.  “Goodnight, Rachel.”

She smiled brightly again before unbuckling the belt and leaving his car. She tucked her hair behind her ears as she traveled backwards to her front door, giving one last wave before turning and walking in. He sat and watched until she had made it completely into the house and he drove away.

***

They were on Rachel’s bed while a rock song played on the radio beside them. Her parents were out of town for one night and Rachel eagerly invited Patrick to stay the night. He spent the entire week having slight panic attacks thinking about being alone with Rachel for an _entire_ night. They had done stuff, of course. Normally, it was in the back of a car or Patrick would stop them when they were at his house, afraid of his parents coming home. None of it ever felt right to him and he told himself it was the anxiety of being caught or the uncomfortability of being stuck in a backseat. He told himself that being alone with Rachel, in an empty home, would be the perfect chance for it to finally all feel right.

“This is gonna be good, Patrick. This is what every teenage boy wants,” he told himself earlier, staring at his reflection and then back down at the condoms sitting on Rachel’s sink.

That night, Patrick did what he thought he should do and what he’d seen. It didn’t feel bad to him by any means, just more like a choreographed dance that he had been training for. Rachel was soft and warm and he wanted to make her feel good, but still after it all, something felt unsettling throughout his whole body.

As Rachel fell asleep beside him, he stared around her room, unable to sleep. She had a poster of John Mayer on the other side of the room across from her bed. He had soft brown hair and was holding a guitar. His head slightly tilted back and mouth agape as he sang. Patrick looked at that poster every time he was in Rachel’s room. He thought that when he got home tomorrow he would learn a John Mayer song on his guitar. His heart fluttered a bit, he assumed out of excitement, and then he carefully moved Rachel’s warm hand from his side so that he could turn over and sleep.

***

“Patrick, what did I do? I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry,” Rachel was sobbing in the passenger seat. Patrick recalled the night, two years prior, that he dropped her off after the show. The way she stared at him with wide dimples and green eyes being lit by a streetlamp, he could see the happiness protruding. Tonight, they were dark and being flooded with hot tears.

“You didn’t do anything Rachel…” Patrick didn’t know how to word it. Something deep in him, knew that he didn’t love her. He had said it to her dozens of times, maybe hundreds. Rachel had said it first, in the dark of her bedroom, with a hushed whisper as Patrick went through the rehearsed and perfected dance of touching her.

“Then, what? Patrick, we’ve been doing good...I thought you loved me. What did I do, what’s wrong?” She’s not shouting, she’s not angry, but she’s _pleading_. Her voice is soft and laden with confusion and hurt.

Patrick’s hands clench, he stares down at them and watches the veins in his wrists contract. He can’t look at Rachel’s face, he doesn’t dare look into her eyes, so he settles on staring at her hands from the corner of his eye. They were delicate and soft. Her nails were always painted, kept short and neat. Those hands had caressed his face, run through his hair and touched parts of him no one else had even seen. His brow furrows and he decides he never wants to see or feel her hands ever again.

“Patrick,” Rachel says beside him.

“It’s not right,” Patrick says, still refusing to look up at her. He knows that he should look into her eyes. He knows that he should be kind and let her down easy. He knows that telling her that he really needs to focus on his school work and music would be better than what he's saying right now. He knows that he should tell her that he loves her, but that he can’t make her happy right now. He knows that everything he feels is wrong, but he can’t fucking figure out why.

“What’s not right?” Her voice breaks as more tears fall.

“Me. You. All of this, it isn’t right, and I don’t fucking know why Rachel, but it isn’t. I’m so sorry,” Patrick finally looks at her and he lets his own tears escape. He isn’t crying for her.

“Do you love me?” Her stare is too intense and tone too accusatory. Patrick wants to run away, he is tired of talking. He is so tired all of the time, he just wants to feel alive again, but he’s not sure the last time he felt like that.

“I love you in ways I’ve never loved anyone,” Patrick says softly. He knew that was true. Rachel was his best friend. She knew everything about his family, every embarrassing story and childhood memory. Patrick shared every first with her and he trusted her and ultimately loved her. He thought, just for a split second, he was making the wrong decision.

“Then why are you doing this?” Patrick remembered every dumb fight, every breakup, every time his stomach churned when he had sex with her, every night staring at the John Mayer poster, every single bad or empty feeling he had when he was with Rachel.

“I’m sorry, Rachel.”

“We are done, forever, Patrick. This is the last time.” She finally left the car with a slam of the door and Patrick felt like he was coming into his own body again.

***

They fall back into it during Patrick’s freshman year at university. Rachel didn’t change any of her future plans after the senior year breakup. Patrick wanted to scream when he saw her that first day of classes, but then he got lonely. He missed his parents and his cousins. At night, he laid awake in his uncomfortable twin bed and Patrick thought that he even started to miss Rachel’s hands around his waist.

Maybe this is what he needed. A few solid months away from Rachel and too many lonely nights. He thought that this must be what right felt like, boys missed girls that they loved. He must love her. Patrick told himself over and over again that he loved her. He imagined himself writing it down over and over so he could say it perfectly; no stuttering or hesitancy or guilt bubbling up inside his stomach when the words left his lips.

Ultimately, they spent the rest of their time at school together. Patrick spent many of his nights drinking beer and crowding his mind with smoke. His body hummed with discontentment and uneasiness but Patrick didn’t know what to blame it on anymore, except himself. His classes were going well, he had met good friends and Rachel loved him day after day. Patrick pushed down the desolating feelings and just allowed himself to live the life that everyone wanted for him.

***

It was a Sunday night when Patrick decided that he should ask Rachel to marry him. The night before, they had gone out to dinner with her parents and while she was in the bathroom, they all but told him he should propose. He agreed that they were both in a good place and ready to take their relationship to the next level. They both had graduated, gotten steady jobs, had a nice apartment and already had been together for years. A few missteps along the way, of course, but together nonetheless.

He looked over at Rachel, sleeping peacefully with her hand by her face. Patrick imagined a ring on her hand, what the cool metal against his skin would feel like, and what would match her nail polish the best. He wasn’t sure if he cared, but he thought that’s something he should care about. Looking down at his own hands, he didn’t want to imagine a ring there. Patrick told himself that it was because he wasn’t a jewelry person and that that was the only reason why his stomach tightened and heart twinged when he thought about marrying her.

Eventually, the ring he fretted over ended up being thrown at him from across a room of packed bags.

“How can you fucking do this again, Patrick?” There was no softness to her voice anymore. It came out with vitriol, Patrick pictured venom spilling out of her lips. Yet, Patrick didn’t care. Years of caring left him empty as drum and he couldn’t find a drop left in him.

“I have to.”

“So, you’re going to leave everything you have? Your family, your job, _me_ , again? And you’re not even gonna tell me where you’re going?” Patrick didn’t bat an eye, only standing at the door with his heaviest suitcase in hand. Rachel didn’t have a single tear in sight and her voice didn’t crack. Her hands were clenched and then running over her face. Patrick’s hands now reached for the door handle.

“Yes.”

 _It was time to feel alive again_ , he thought as he drove into Schitt’s Creek.

***

Patrick’s first night in Ray’s bedroom, he thought that he was going to miss Rachel’s presence next to him. Instead, he let himself fan out over the bed and wrapped himself up in the entire blanket. In the morning, Rachel texted him.

**Hope you made it to wherever you are safe. I love you.**

He immediately deleted it.

***

The day that Patrick first met David, Rachel texted him again. He didn’t bother reading it, his skin still was buzzing when he remembered touching David’s hand. That night, he grabs his guitar and plays “Clarity” by John Mayer over and over until his fingers hurt a little too much.

***

They were watching a movie in Patrick’s bed when he gets a text.

**Afkhfh**

**Oh sorry didn’t mean to send**

Patrick’s chest tightens but he just squeezes David’s hand a little harder. David squeezes back and looks up at him with a smile. A sense of ease rolls over Patrick’s entire body and he completely forgot about Rachel’s text until later that night. David is clinging to his back, hands and arms fully wrapped about Patrick’s middle, his phone buzzes wildly from the nightstand. Patrick keeps David’s hands on him but reaches for his phone. _Of course_ , he thinks as he sees Rachel’s name.

**Hope you’re doing okay. I miss you, I’m sorry for being smothering or not supportive enough or not being right? I will be here always**

Patrick just groans. David looks up at him with a questioning glance and he wants to tell David every single thing about Rachel, but that is the old him. That Patrick doesn’t exist anymore. Some days he couldn’t believe that that Patrick existed.

So, he deletes the texts and presses a soft kiss atop David’s head.

“It’s nothing.”

***

When Patrick looks up to see Rachel standing with Alexis at the first big family event he was invited to, it felt like his entire fucking world fell apart in that split second. It had been only a few months since he had left her standing alone in their apartment but so much had happened, between then and now. He didn’t know where to begin, with David _or_ with Rachel.

He told David about Rachel, he had been dreading it, but he knew he had to explain himself. To make David know that he had changed him. Taken his world and flipped it up right. But still, David didn’t want him. Patrick had been through many firsts with Rachel, had spent so many years with her, but none of anything he felt with her came even close to anything he did with David. Including the breakups. Patrick’s entire body felt like it was going to fall apart, he needed more beer, he needed a fucking joint. He needed David.

When he left David’s motel room, he didn’t speak to anyone. Stevie tried but he quietly got the food David asked for and knocked on the door. Swiftly, it opened and only David’s hands peaked out to grab the food. Patrick’s eyes lingered on that hand. David’s perfect hands that knew exactly where to touch Patrick to drive him wild. The hands that always had four silver rings attached to it. The hands that would tangle with his own and rub soft circles into his skin. Patrick yearned to grab David’s hand and hold it until the end of time, but instead he had to face Rachel.

He walked slowly back out to the picnic table, no Rose or Stevie in sight. Only Rachel, sitting on the edge of the seat with her lip placed firmly in her mouth, teeth biting down hard. Her head snapped up when she heard Patrick clear his throat.

“You have a boyfriend,” she said slowly. He watched her bring a hand to place some hair behind her ears.

“Maybe not so much anymore,” he replied back sadly. He couldn’t believe he was talking about David with Rachel. He felt absolutely unreal; his two separate worlds crashing into each other. Patrick braced himself for tears and screaming and shame to be thrown his way. He knew he deserved it, but all he wanted to do was think about ways to get David to talk to him again.

“I guess I got my answer.”

“What?” Patrick was confused, not only at the question but Rachel’s soft expression. Almost a smile at the side of her mouth. “What do you mean?”

“You never told me what wasn’t right. You just said ‘us.’ I spent forever figuring out what you thought wasn’t right.” _Oh._  Patrick had forgotten he actually had told Rachel that. Guilt consumed him, tugging at his stomach and threatening him with the hot and heavy tears building in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Rachel. I didn’t know. Fuck, I spent forever trying to figure it out, too. I loved you, I _love_ you. I just didn’t know.” He found himself letting the small flow of tears run down his flushed cheeks, even though everything in him told him to keep it together. He hurt Rachel, ripped and broke her apart, but his own heart had been mangled in the process. Rachel just looked at him, for once not knowing what to say herself. She laughed a bit, showing those dimples and then clasped her hands together.

“So, Schitt’s Creek?” She laughed again and he joined in. They both lost it for a minute, laughing harder together than they had in years. Tears pricked both of their eyes, but only from the force of laughing. They let the tension rest and fade as much as it could. Rachel extended her hand out and Patrick grabbed it. He let himself smile and feel relief as they fell into each others arms.

“So, the epic saga of Patrick and Rachel finally comes to end in Schitt’s fuckin’ Creek,” she said as she pulled back from the hug, letting her hand trail down his arms, to his hand and lingering there a second more before pulling it back close to her chest.

***

Patrick and David got back together and it was more than just ‘falling back into it.’ There was no sense of complacency in what Patrick felt for David. Patrick didn’t need a script to know what to say to David, there was no rehearsing for anything he did to or with him.

Every touch, every kiss, every fuck, felt like a thousand fireworks going off at once every single time. Patrick never got tired of waking up David with soft kisses to his neck, nuzzling himself into the short stubble along his jaw and kissing him tenderly and slow.

He went thirty years just accepting that love wasn’t something he was built for. That something deep and unloving was programmed into his DNA.

Now, Patrick thought he was brought into this world specifically to love David Rose and to be loved by him. To place four gold rings upon his fingers, hold his hand and spend the rest of his life feeling right.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me over at tumblr [@patrickanddavid](https://www.patrickanddavid.tumblr.com/).


End file.
